


Sleep to the Freezing

by Edgelord27



Category: Original Work
Genre: Based in ww2, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, King - Freeform, M/M, Nothing too explicit but im putting the warning there just in case, This was an english essay and i think you can tell, god forgive me, grossly historically accurate, i mention oscar wilde like once, king shit, name from 'cherry wine' by hozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27818647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edgelord27/pseuds/Edgelord27
Summary: Bullets implant themselves into the cracked walls of the ruined building. Two men are locked in a shootout with enemy soldiers.-he could hear the works of Oscar Wilde read in a soft voice as linen sheets wrapped legs together-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Look- its gay fiction with a slice of shitting on hitler, read at your own expense.WARNING: im dyslexic
Kudos: 1





	Sleep to the Freezing

Bullets implant themselves into the cracked walls of the ruined building. Two men are locked in a shootout with enemy soldiers. A whisper of prayer drifts from ear to ear- not a whisper filled with longing or tenderness- it was the kind of whisper that brings stoic men to their knees; a whisper a mother of a soldier would scream into the earth every night her child was gone; a whisper Franz was hearing now. Franz who was gripping onto his rifle like a lifeline, as he quivers behind a wall. Eyes clamp shut as the screaming from a grenade thrown a few meters away reaches its crescendo. A man slumps to the floor next to him. Magnus. And for a moment, just a moment, Franz could see again. He could see smokey bars with too much whiskey- he could hear the works of Oscar Wilde read in a soft voice as linen sheets wrapped legs together as if they weren't already close enough. Fantasy was torn as their unforgiving reality bled back. A look of desperation from Magnus was enough to spur him into action. With trembling hands, he flicks off his rifle's safety as he aims. His shot lands a few feet above the young enemy soldier he was supposed to be aiming at - purposely missing. He looked into his wide eyes, and a shiver racked his spine. He melted to the floor, panting, sweaty and shaking violently. He was fighting a war for a man that would kill him for who he loved. How could something so innocent be a sin? Something so pure be vulgar?

The air that was once filled with the shrieks of gunshots now fell silent, as all Franz's could hear was his and Magnus' laboured breathing. Why? Why all this senseless bloodshed? For what? Lebensraum? 'Arian superiority'? Or one sadistic mans need for power to make up for his own sickness and inferiority. He looks over to Magnus and sees a life of hiding, a life of scrutiny, a life of fear and a life full of hardships- but he's never met someone who melts him quite the way Magnus does- and a life without him would be cold and drab. A hand wove into his. A solemn moment. A stolen kiss. And that is all the convincing Franz will ever need.

The only gunshots Franz hears now were a distance away. More worryingly his British friends were silent. Suspiciously so. Franz risks peeking his head over a gap in the crumbling wall only to find the soldiers gone. Franz manages to let out a shaking exhale as his entire body slumps against the wall he was sheltering behind not too long ago. Still, he knows they could not relax for long. He knew other German soldiers were not far off, and if they were found they would have to return to the military. Return to fear and compliance. Magnus, now aware of the British soldier's absence, stood. Shouldered his rifle, and was readying for the walk back to camp, when Franz grabbed his hand. What if, what if they didn't go?

"Run away with me."

What if, they went to the beach? And ran away, away from Germany. Away from a country they no longer recognised as their home. Away from the war. They could go to Canada or Sweden! They could have a life together that wasn't destined to end in heartache. Franz, for the second time today, found himself praying. Magnus' answer came in the form of a fevered kiss, arms encompassing Franz's neck as they held each other in the ruins of Dunkirk.

The two of them limp through a war-torn town. The air was thick with smoke, that stuck to Franz's throat as he breathed it in. The sound of distant gunshots echoed in the heads of the young lovers, as they stumbled further into the town. The two found themselves leaning heavily on one another, trusting each other more than their own feet. Franz's legs screamed at him to rest, but he finds that he doesn't care. Planes screeching overhead almost drowns out the sound of gunfire as Franz and Magnus stumble towards the beach. They can escape there, be free from the scrutiny, the bloodshed, the loneliness and everything else that had torn their home in half. Franz began to move faster out of desperation, fear and adrenaline keeping him from collapsing. Keeping him moving.

A gust of wind tore through the streets littered with the bodies of martyrs for this sick game of chess. Franz trembles from the cold, that was seeping into his bones. He spots a man, flat on his stomach. Having had seemingly to spent his last moments crawling, aching to reach some forgotten goal. The wounds that dirtied his legs holding him back. Another shiver ran down Franz's spine, this time, not because of the cold. Franz notices that he isn't the only one suffering from the cold, as he sees Magnus rubbing his arms in what might be an attempt to generate heat or an attempt to ground himself. Pain shoots through his chest at seeing him like this. He gives his counterpart another glance before moving himself over to the fallen man and rolling him over, his eyes dragging over the dead soldier's tattered uniform. Franz peels off the man's jacket while muttering hushed apologies. He offers the coat to Magnus, who accepts it after a moment of consideration. He spots a Union Jack on the right arm of the jacket, fear courses through him when he imagines Magnus being spotted by German soldiers and being brutally gunned down, without hesitation. He broke out of his hysterics when someone shoves past him.  
Franz froze. It was a British soldier.  
Why hasn't he shot them yet? What was he saying? Why was he yelling? Franz zoned back in to catch a garbled-

"Well come on then!" From the retreating Brit.

Franz's English was sloppy, at the best of times. But he saw an opportunity to be free they could pass through as British soldiers. Undetected. He exchanges a look with Magnus and set off in the direction the man was running. The beach.

Franz and Magnus sat on the beach. A moment of calm amongst such calamity. Nobody was paying them any mind, too busy with their own business to notice the two holding each other. They said nothing as they sat on the damp sand, fingers once again intertwined. Tears began falling from Franz's eyes as he started to shake again. Magnus wipes them away while pressing gentle kisses to his hairline, murmuring sweet reassurances in his ear. Franz tucks his face into the crook of Magnus's neck and sobs. Grasping onto his back like a lifeline. As Franz continues to sob onto Magnus's stolen coat he realises that what they have is more important than any bloody conflict, more important than the ego of a thousand leaders. How many people in a lifetime find someone who completes you so? As he's contemplating this he witnesses the British soldier he spared spot him. His entire body froze as they made eye contact for the second time today. He sees his eyes scan over Magnus's back-where his hands were clutching onto the stolen coat- and meet his eyes once again. The British soldier (who couldn't be older than 18) gave Franz a shaky nod, as he walks into a ship. Relief flood through Franz as he saw the back of the solders head disappear in a crowd. He knew, at that moment, that he and Magnus would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry


End file.
